Chapter 30 : Chapter 30

Chapter 30 — Twilight (4)

I hadn’t known much about the final reward I’d chosen — the Flag.

When I recalled what the young squire had told me, it went something like this:

“You may request that the fallen knight’s honor be restored and made radiant once more. We call this request ‘the Flag.’”

After his formal explanation, I had answered without hesitation:

“Then I’ll choose that.”

Now that I thought about it, the squire had looked rather taken aback by my answer.

It made sense — the first two options were vastly more practical and rewarding.

Meken was the vice-captain of a knight order and a Sword Runner. He must have been wealthy, and to take such a powerful man as my slave — to command him as I pleased — would have been an immense prize. But none of that could have eased the fundamental discomfort I felt.

All I wanted was for Fetel’s soul to be remembered — even a little. So I cast away greed, and asked for the Flag.

Well.

“That knight would’ve been happy to see this sight.”

I hadn’t expected it to turn into something so… grand.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like this.”

I was overwhelmed by the scene before me.

Night had fallen, the sky black and vast, while countless mages — visitors from afar — filled it with shimmering magical fire.

It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen a mage.

They shaped flames as if molding clay, sculpting them into dazzling patterns that drifted across the heavens.

It was like watching fire spirits dance, or witnessing one of the continent’s mythical visions come to life.

Amid the blossoming lights, songs of valor and the beat of drums rang through the air.

At the heart of the village, a festival was being held — a festival to honor the death of a single man, Fetel.

There were no villagers to celebrate, no crowd to watch — only this lonely countryside hamlet holding a ceremony for one departed soul.

“It’s proof that the knight lived rightly,” said Liam, his eyes faintly sorrowful.

“Proof that someone still wishes to remember him, even after his passing. It doesn’t matter how grand or small the ceremony is — what matters is that someone remembers. That is the greatest gift the dead can receive.”

Liam gazed at the fires with an uncharacteristic melancholy.

“You can see it, can’t you, young descendant? Even one as great as I, and the house I came from — no one remembers us anymore.”

Knights on horseback raised their swords in salute, while at the entrance of the village, a massive stone monument was erected bearing Fetel’s name.

All of this had been done in a single day — the work of many knights and mages.

Watching the almost otherworldly beauty of it all, I found myself murmuring:

“Master.”

“Yes?”

“What happens to people after they die?”

What happens to the dead? It was a question asked in every religion across the continent — one the living could never stop wondering about.

My question was a philosophical one, but Liam did not answer immediately.

So I rephrased it.

“…Do you think Fetel can see this?”

Liam remained silent for a long while. Then, drifting through the air like a phantom, he finally replied.

“Only the sword knows.”

As always, he spoke like one of the witches of the Sky Empire — elusive and difficult to grasp.

Yet his words lingered, heavy and profound.

Fetel had left behind only one thing: His honest, steadfast sword — Twilight.

That blade carried every step of his life within it.

Perhaps Liam’s answer was the truest one.

While I was lost in thought, a woman approached me — someone I’d never met, yet somehow felt familiar. When she drew close enough for me to see her face clearly, I understood why.

“…You’re the one who became my Fetel’s proxy warrior, the one who protected his honor.”

I had never met her, but I knew her well.

I had seen her countless times within the memories sealed in Fetel’s sword, and had felt waves of his emotions like tides through the blade.

For a long moment, I stood there blankly — then spoke before I realized it.

“…Daisy.”

Fetel’s former master.

The woman he had thought of even as his life faded with the twilight — the girl he had loved.

No longer a girl now, but a graceful, dignified woman — Daisy stood before me.

***

“My Fetel’s honor will be restored. Every bard in the Iron Kingdom will sing songs of ‘Fetel the Loyal’ until people grow sick of them. Every academy my husband sponsors will teach his name to aspiring knights. I’ll use every resource I have to make Fetel’s death glorious.”

Cold night wind swept through her hair as she spoke fervently about what she would do.

She had become far more formidable than in the days Fetel knew her.

The House of White — even a backwater peasant like me knew that name.

A noble family so powerful that the entire Iron Kingdom bowed to them, and Daisy was now the Duchess — the lawful wife of the White family’s patriarch.

I didn’t know what had happened in her life, but it didn’t matter.

As she spoke on and on, I began to hear sorrow creeping into her voice.

So I said quietly: “You don’t need to go that far. Sir Fetel will remember you.”

“……”

“Honoring his spirit is enough. That would satisfy him.”

She fell silent at that.

Then whispered: “…He wasn’t a man who should have gone that way.”

“……”

“My Fetel was loyal and wonderful beyond words. If not for him, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

Daisy smiled faintly. But even as she smiled, tears shimmered in her eyes.

“The life he showed me was light itself — the proof that if you stand firm against the world, happiness will someday come. Fetel was my proof of life… and my eternal companion.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. In that moment, her noble title and her power meant nothing.

Whether she was a duchess, a fallen noble, or simply a woman who couldn’t let go of her past — right now, she was just Daisy.

“You’re a kind child,” she said softly.

“Thanks to you, Fetel didn’t die alone. I’m so grateful for that. So unbearably grateful.”

She wiped her tears, and I waited silently until she composed herself again.

“Just a moment.”

Daisy stepped toward Fetel’s grave — the one Seol Yoon and I had built. She knelt, kissed the dusty stone, and left a faint red mark on it. Then, folding her hands, she prayed in the way Fetel had — a gesture of the Goddess Marcia’s faith, wishing peace for the departed beneath the open sky.

After a while, she turned and approached me. From her breast, she drew a small white medal — different from the Arena tokens used to prove identity.

It shimmered faintly and chimed like glass when it swayed.

“Take this,” she said.

“What is it?”

“A token of gratitude — for sending my beloved friend off in peace.”

Smiling brightly, Daisy pressed it into my hand.

“The Watchers of the White family never forget their debts — whether kindness or vengeance, they always repay. I am no exception.”

“……”

“If you ever find yourself in desperate need, break this medal. When it shatters, I’ll come to you — no matter what danger you’re in.”

Her eyes hardened, gleaming like steel.

“The Watchers will guard your future.”

I stared, stunned, at the medal in my hand.

A boy from a forgotten corner of the kingdom couldn’t begin to understand what kind of power or promise this represented.

Only Liam chuckled.

“Haha… young descendant, you have no idea what you’ve just received.”

He was right. I had no idea. But one thing, at least, I knew.

“Thank you.”

That I wasn’t the only one who mourned Fetel sincerely.

“Sir Fetel was a good friend to me too.”

And so I spoke simply, honestly.

“If you ever need my help, Lady Daisy, just say the word. We shared the same friend — that makes us friends as well. I’ll do what I can.”

Daisy smiled — warm and amused.

“You’re adorable, child.”

Her hand brushed my cheek.

“But for some reason, I feel you’ll become truly great one day. Someone who won’t tremble even before the name of White.”

I couldn’t tell if her words were heartfelt or polite. But I found myself remembering another voice:

“For some reason, my lord, I think your name will be remembered in this continent’s history.”

The precious words my kind neighbor Fetel had once said.

Daisy and Fetel were alike — walking different paths, yet still the same in spirit.

***

For two days, Daisy gathered every knight and mage she had brought and held ceremonies in Fetel’s name before departing.

“This was just a formal rite,” she said. “The real event will be held once Fetel’s body is recovered — in his homeland. Everyone there will remember his name.”

“……”

“His honor will shine brighter than ever. I’ll make sure of it.”

I would never see that grand event — I had no ties to the capital, nor any interest in courtly society.

Here, nothing would change.

Fetel was gone.

That was all.

Except — his death was no longer stained.

That alone was enough for me.

“All humans die someday,” Liam murmured.

“That’s why the way one’s death is remembered — the way the living choose to carry that memory — is what matters most.”

His words struck deep.

Death is the destination of every life, after all.

“Alright,” I said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Setting emotion aside, I hadn’t gained much from the duel or Fetel’s death.

I had defeated a Sword Runner, but claimed nothing tangible — no gold, no slave, no glory for myself. All of it would go to Fetel.

Still, it wasn’t as if I’d gained nothing.

“Your gear’s awful,” Daisy had said before leaving.

“It’s not much, but take these. We’re friends, after all.”

She’d given me fine gifts — a mithril armor and boots used only by the Watchers of White, and a razor-sharp dwarven steel sword capable of cleaving plain iron like paper.

I accepted them gratefully. But even if she hadn’t given them, I wouldn’t have minded.

My revenge had never been about practicality. It had begun with emotion — and if I couldn’t find emotional peace through it, I’d lose the very reason I’d started down this path.

Becoming Fetel’s proxy warrior and avenging him — that was, in the end, also for myself.

With that in mind, I watched them depart.

Daisy’s party left first.

Then came Meken’s order, trudging behind like defeated soldiers.

Meken himself looked deathly pale, like a man condemned to die — and honestly, that suited him fine.

He was never someone I liked anyway.

Once all the guests had gone, quiet returned to the village.

But as I stood there watching the last of them leave, an old knight approached me.

“Hmm. Smaller and younger than I expected.”

“…Who are you?”

“Yet fascinating in so many ways. No wonder that fool Meken lost.”

The bearded old man ignored my question, speaking as if to himself.

Clad in silver armor, he examined me closely, smiling.

“What an unusual body. A hidden gem in the middle of nowhere.”

“…?”

“Your heart seems newly forged, crude even — yet its hardness is like steel hammered for decades. Only one bloodline I know carries such traits…”

His keen eyes ran over me. After a silent moment, he chuckled.

“No — impossible. The blood of steel can’t still exist in this age. You’re merely similar, that’s all.”

Steel Blood.

At those words, my composure nearly cracked. I forced an awkward smile, trying to steady my face.

The old knight grinned, showing his teeth.

“Still young, I see. You’ve no poker face.”

He suddenly leaned in — his face inches from mine.

I stammered instinctively.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Be careful, boy. I’m letting this slide because you’ve done something admirable — a knightly deed, romantic even, in an age that’s forgotten such things.”

He clapped my shoulder — heavy as steel.

“I came here because I had to see you myself — and I’m glad I did. Seems this old Vermartin’s instincts haven’t gone dull after all. A descendant of Steel Blood, hidden in the outskirts of the Iron Kingdom… ha!”

“Like I said… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I tried to sound calm. But then his face hardened.

“If you can’t hide it perfectly, say nothing. A clumsy lie is worse than silence. Remember, boy — steel does not speak.”

His gaze turned beastlike — predatory and terrifying.

“Hide yourself better. If the Prince’s Executioner discovers you, you’ll die.”

“……”

“The Executioner shows no mercy to men over eighteen. Learn to conceal yourself perfectly while you still can — if you want to live.”

I understood everything he meant.

The clues were enough.

My eyes widened.

The Prince’s Executioner.

The man who showed no mercy to grown men.

The old knight was speaking about my enemy —Swordmaster Carlos.

“You should be thankful,” Vermartin said gravely, “that I am a swordsman who reveres Steel.”

Then, relaxing again, he added lightly:

“Proxy warrior of the honor duel — you seem to have many questions.”

“……”

“But it’s too early. You wouldn’t understand yet.”

He smiled faintly.

“When you’ve grown wings…”

“……”

“…come find me.”

He stepped back, and finally answered the question I had asked at the start.

“You’ll find me in the Iron Kingdom’s capital — the Blade City, Cherville.”

“……”

“Ask for Sir Vermartin.”

As he turned to leave, his voice rang out one last time:

“They’ll know me by another name — Vermartin the Steel.”

And with that, every visitor who had come to our quiet village was gone. Yet I stood there for a long while, unable to move.

For a very long time.

***

The death of my first neighbor, Fetel.

The battle with the deserter knight.

The honor duel against a Sword Runner.

The visit of a duchess from one of the Five Great Houses.

The sight of mages and their solemn rites.

All of it had been new, bewildering — but that final meeting had overshadowed everything.

The words of that old knight named Vermartin shook me deeply, and confusion lingered for a long time.

Well.

“What are you brooding about?”

Of course, I didn’t stay trapped in confusion forever.

“Nothing’s changed, young descendant. You still have one thing to do.”

My goal was clear.

“To grow stronger. To keep moving forward.”

No matter what happened, that never changed.

So there was no reason to waver.

When I realized that, I looked up. Liam was floating above the shabby house as always, watching me with his stern, dignified face.

“In the way of the Karavan.”

There was no need to overthink.

I had a great teacher who always pointed me toward the right answer.

And once again, he did so now.

“It’s time to consume a new sword, young descendant.”